


Risks and Awards

by timehopper



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Slow Dancing, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 00:53:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/pseuds/timehopper
Summary: Angela Ziegler had not been expecting to run into the current Doomfist at this evening's awards ceremony, but when he approaches her, she decides to hear him out despite everything she knows about him.





	Risks and Awards

**Author's Note:**

> I got a request in my inbox for some Doomfist/Mercy a while back, and I needed a break from some of the stuff I'd been working on, so I decided to finally get around to writing this! Gotta say, this was not a ship I had considered at all before this... but I think I like it. I certainly like Doomfist! 
> 
> Since this is my first time writing him, though, please feel free to correct anything that feels off. I appreciate it, I promise!

The gala is rather nice, all things considered.

Angela has never really been one to get all dressed up outside of formal events like this. She feels foreign in her own clothes like this somehow, like her hair and makeup and dress are nothing but a costume. But this is an awards ceremony, and a prestigious one at that, so she must follow the proper social protocol. Medical professionals and researchers from all over the globe have gathered here tonight to celebrate each other’s’ achievements in their respective fields, whether they take an award home or not.

When they call her name, Angela steps up onto the small stage, trying not to trip over her long, flowing blue evening gown as she ascends the stairs. Her silver heels peek out from beneath the skirt of it and nearly catch on the material as she takes her final step, but she just manages not to make a fool of herself.

It’s funny, she thinks, how easy it is to flit about a battlefield when climbing such small steps is so difficult.

Mercy accepts the award for her work in the field of Applied Nanobiotics with grace and dignity, then after a short speech returns to her seat to watch the rest of the ceremony unfold. It’s good to see some of her colleagues be rewarded for their hard work. She’s secretly pleased when Moira O’Deorain is snubbed and passed over for another prominent geneticist, but she makes sure to keep that to herself. Mostly, anyway - she catches McCree’s eye in the back of the room and can’t help but note that he looks pleased as well.

When the ceremony is over, her and her fellow scientists and doctors stand up and begin to mingle. McCree, dressed as a waiter, moves through the crowd and offers people flutes of champagne. Angela looks around for her other escort and doesn’t find him, but she doesn’t worry; Genji is probably much safer than she is right now. He and McCree are here as her bodyguards (and O’Deorain’s, too, she supposes), rather than for illicit Blackwatch activity. Security at the hotel is tight, especially in the ballroom where everyone is gathered; nobody wants to risk losing some of the most prolific minds in medicine on the off chance of an attack. Commanders Morrison and Reyes had been extra cautious in assigning Angela and Moira the extra guard.

Not that it does her much good. As the music begins to play and people start moving onto the dance floor, a finger taps Angela on the shoulder.

“Excuse me,” a deep, baritone voice says behind her. Angela turns to see who is asking after her and her face pales. She tries her best to school her expression and keep it neutral, and although she thinks she succeeds, she is far from feeling neutral about coming face-to-face with Akande Ogundimu: heir to his family’s prosthetic company, the current Doomfist, and high-ranking member of Talon.

Not that most people here know the latter facts about him yet, of course. Blackwatch has been very careful in investigating Talon’s more illicit affairs, including the recent murder of Akinjide Adeyemi and its subsequent cover-up.

She should have expected him to be here. His family’s work in prosthetics is more than prolific; they are the leading name in the field right now. There was no award for prosthetic technology tonight, but Angela is sure that if there had been one, Akande would have been the one to accept it.

She tries to calm herself, to make sure no sign of discomfort shows on her face. Angela swallows and tries to smile. She opens her mouth to stutter out a greeting, but before she can get a word out, Akande smiles at her and asks, “Dr. Angela Ziegler, may I have this dance?”

He extends a hand to her. Angela notes it looks much smaller without the gauntlet, but it would still very likely dwarf her own. She looks up at his face again a moment and catches a glimpse of McCree behind him.

He watches her, eyes looking for any sign of trouble. Apparently seeing none, he nods just shy of imperceptibly. Angela decides to trust him: McCree’s instincts are very rarely wrong. She takes Doomfist’s hand.

“Of course,” she says. “How can I refuse when Akande Ogundimu himself is asking?”

 

\---

 

He leads her onto the dance floor. A slow string melody begins to flow from the orchestral quartet and he puts a hand on Angela’s waist. She places her right on his shoulder and takes his free hand in hers, and they dance.

Angela lets him lead.

They move as one, surprisingly fluid and in sync despite Mercy’s agitation. It’s strange, almost, how well they seem to fit together despite their differences. Perhaps the masks they’re both wearing are simply that effective.

Akande breaks the illusion first. “You have quite the guard with you tonight.”

Angela’s fake-polite smile drops in an instant. “This was never about a dance, was it?”

“Do not be so quick to jump to conclusions,” Akande says. “I simply wanted to talk.”

“Why bother with the pretense of a dance, then?”

Akande spins them around in time with the crescendo of the music, and Angela allows him to dip her. When she straightens up, he says, “I simply couldn’t think of a better excuse to get you alone without alarming your dogs.”

Angela glares, but sways along with Akande. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You think I haven’t noticed Jesse McCree watching me all night? That I haven’t seen Genji Shimada lurking outside the ballroom? Think of the scene they would have caused had I approached you without your consenting to it first.”

She hates to admit it, but he has a point. “You have me, then. What is it you want to talk about?”

Another spin, another dip. Angela feels lightheaded with the motion, and yet she still finds herself enjoying it. It’s been so long since she’s danced like this. “I was hoping to pick your brain over your most recently-published paper. My family may be at the forefront of prostheses, but we have yet to rebuild a man and replace as much of his body as you have with your, ah… _good friend_ outside.”

Angela raises an eyebrow. “You can’t expect me to believe that’s everything to it?”

Akande laughs. “Interesting that you’re so suspicious of me. Is this not a gathering meant to facilitate the discussion of scientific advancement?”

“It is, yes.” The music swells again, but this time there is no spin, no dip. The end of the song draws near. “But I know who you are. What you’ve done. There is always something more.”

“Perhaps I think you just look nice tonight.”

Angela almost laughs. Almost.

“Come with me to my room,” Doomfist says. “We will talk there.”

Angela’s heart beats, hard and fast and scared, against her chest. She doesn’t answer; there’s too much to consider. She does not doubt that if she refuses, Akande will back off and leave her be, but she will be looking over her shoulder for the rest of the night. But there is still the chance that she is wrong about that, and he will take it poorly. And if McCree sees even so much of a glimpse of displeasure on Akande’s face… if he reads real hostility in his body language… then the scene Akande had alluded to previously will almost undoubtedly come to pass.

She can’t bring that on Jesse. On Genji. On _Overwatch._

So she gives into him and nods. “Very well,” she says, just as the music slows, quiets, and finally stops.

Akande smiles at her and leads her off of the dance floor.

 

\---

 

Angela tells McCree not to follow her. He agrees, however reluctantly, but as she walks through the hallways of the hotel, following Akande to his room, she swears she feels Genji’s eyes on her back, his warm presence all around her.

She feels safer, but only marginally so.

 

\---

 

True to his word, Akande does only seem to want to talk. It’s awkward at first, Angela’s eyes darting around the room to look for possible escape routes, and Akande positioning himself in such a way she isn’t sure she can run even if she wanted to.

But she doesn’t want to, for some reason.

Even knowing everything Akande has done, she can’t help but enjoy their conversation. He’s intelligent. He’s insightful. He’s _interesting_. And the more they talk, the more relaxed Angela becomes, like she’s speaking to an old friend or colleague. It unnerves her somewhat, but it does not stop her from continuing the conversation.

As they talk, they get closer. They sit on the bed together. Their hands touch. He slips the straps of her dress from her shoulders.

They end up in bed together. Angela is not entirely sure how; all she knows in this moment is that his hands on her hips feel like heaven, his lips on her neck like the first sip of water after a drought.

Akande gets her on her knees and crowds her back, leaning over to press his lips to her shoulder. He strokes a hand down her thigh and curls it around in front of her, sliding one thick finger between her folds to rub at her clit. Angela gasps; she bites her lip to hold back the sound, but Akande can feel her tremble beneath him.

“You are allowed to make noise, you know,” he tells her, the teasing lilt of his voice turning her face scarlet. “Or are you worried your guard dog will overhear?”

“He is not a dog,” Angela snaps, her head twisting to glare at Doomfist over her shoulder. “And he can take care of himse -- Ohhhh…”

Angela's back arches and she shudders again, her whole body reacting to the way Akande's cock penetrates her, how it shifts inside her and presses up against her walls. She hears the little huff of satisfaction Akande makes behind her and she purposely clenches down around him. The hitch in his breath is incredibly satisfying.

He pulls out. Angela whines involuntarily, and then prepares to chew him out, ask him if he's suddenly changed his mind, but she gets her answer when he takes her by the shoulder and turns her around before pushing her down onto the bed. He leans forward and places one large hand at each side of her head to pin her in place, then slides back into her with ease.

He bottoms out and Angela nearly screams in pleasure. She's never felt so wonderfully full in her life - Akande hardly even needs to move to get her close to the edge. But he does, moving in and out of her steadily, making sure not to go all the way in with every thrust. He just teases her with the head of his cock, the crown of it slipping in and then sliding back out half a second later.

Angela squirms beneath him. It's good, better than she had thought - Doomfist clearly knows how to show a lady a good time - but it's not enough. Rather than admit that and ask him for more, however, Angela wraps her legs around his hips and pulls him in, hoping he gets the message.

He does.

Doomfist shifts his weight and pulls back. The tip of his cock teases at Mercy's gaping vagina a moment before it slides back inside her, and further this time. The movement is not fast or hard, but it is not gentle, either; he's still teasing her, even if just a little bit.

Angela whines. One of Akande's hands comes up to stroke a lock of hair out of her eyes. She hates the smug look he gives her. "Is everything okay, Dr. Ziegler?"

Angela glares. "You know d-damn well it is."

"Good."

Akande moves a little bit faster, but it's still not enough to satisfy Angela. Not completely, anyway; she makes it very clear how much she's enjoying what he _does_ deign to give her, gasping and moaning loudly with every thrust in. But still, she refuses to beg; and when she gets close enough to it she thinks she might break down and ask, she catches sight of the furrow in Akande's brow, the look of a man trying to be careful with something delicate.

Angela's eyes go wide. He's... he's trying to be _careful_ with her.

It's so ridiculous she can't help but laugh. Akande Ogundimu, the man who recently killed his own mentor to become the new Doomfist, and an apparently high-ranking member of prolific terrorist organization Talon, is trying to be _gentle_ while he fucks her.

"What is so funny?" Doomfist asks, slowing his movement as he once again hits deep inside of Mercy. Angela's laughter is interrupted with a vibrato of a moan, and she brings a hand up to cup Doomfist behind his head.

"You don't have to be so gentle," she insists. "Trust me, I have been through much worse than a little bit of rough lovemaking."

"Lovemaking?" Akande repeats with a smirk, like the cat that got the canary. "Is that what you want to call this?"

"Hardly," Angela retorts. "But it sounds a little bit nicer than calling it a quick fuck, don't you think?" She grins and clenches down around Akande, rolling her hips so he's forced even deeper into her, so that every inch of him rubs against her deepest, most intimate places. To Angela's satisfaction, he sucks a shallow breath in through his teeth. Clearly she's not the only one enjoying herself.

"I wonder if your friend outside would agree," Akande says, but he doesn't give Angela a chance to ask what he's trying to say, because he shuts her up preemptively with a hard, sharp thrust.

Angela does scream, this time, her back arching right off the bed. She clutches Akande's shoulders, her long, perfectly-manicured nails digging in deep. She pulls herself up to his body, breasts pressing into him. The heat and the friction of their bodies rubbing together is pure ecstasy, and Angela happily lets herself forget just who she's with and what she's doing.

Akande finds her G-spot at last and rams into it over and over and over again. Each thrust makes Mercy see stars, and she comes with a strangled noise somewhere between a sob and a scream. She doesn't even feel the way she gushes around Akande again and again, she's so far out of it, so wrapped up in the pure-white bliss of her never-ending orgasm.

She comes back to herself slowly, just in time to feel Doomfist’s cock twitch inside her. He lets out a deep breath, lips parted and eyes closed. Angela looks up at him without really taking everything in. For a moment, though, she thinks he looks almost peaceful.

If she’d been of more sound mind, she might have remembered that Doomfist looking pleased and at peace was never a good sign.

She doesn’t think about it, though; not until much later. She simply tries to catch her breath, and she watches Akande as he pulls out of her (she almost feels another orgasm coming at the movement), cleans himself up, and then leaves to fetch a warm, damp towel from the ensuite. He brings it back and wipes Mercy down.

When he’s done, she sits up and watches him redress. When he finishes tying his tie, he fetches Angela’s gown and hands it back to her. “You would probably do well to put this back on. The party isn’t over yet, and I’m sure there are still people who would still like to congratulate you.”  
  
Angela nods, not wanting to admit that he’s right. She does need to keep up appearances - as does he. Luckily, Akande does her the favour of leaving first and allowing her to dress alone. “Until next time,” he says. “Congratulations, Dr. Ziegler. And might I say, you really are looking lovely tonight.”

Angela frowns as she watches him leave, trying not to let his final compliment get under her skin. She simply stands up and silently slips the gown back on. She takes a moment to properly rearrange her hair, and after one last check, she leaves the room ready to face the party - to face McCree and Genji - once again.

She wonders what they’ll think of her after this.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and would like to see more, have a chat, or find out how to support me, please check out my twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r) or follow my writing blog [@intim3ate](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com), where I post progress, WIPs, and take requests.
> 
> If you would like to find out how to support me, I have a handy list of links right [here](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r/status/1122210346939244544). Please check it out! I wouldn't be able to do this without people like you supporting me. ♥
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
